


The Unbound Heart

by GarnetSeren



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Consensual, Consensual Kink, Consensual Sex, Dorian is a Good Friend, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Female Friendship, Fenris Needs a Hug, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Hawke is a good friend, Hurt/Comfort, Jealous Fenris (Dragon Age), Kink Negotiation, Magister Hawke, Male Homosexuality, Male-Female Friendship, Mild Kink, Mutual Pining, Non-Cannon AU, Past Rape/Non-con, Pining, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Platonic Relationships, Secret Relationship, Slave Fenris, Slow Burn, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2019-08-27 07:10:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16697785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GarnetSeren/pseuds/GarnetSeren
Summary: After a series of disasters brought Hawke to Tevinter with the sole remaining member of her family in tow, she did the only thing she knew how to do... she fought for the life she desired. Despite being a barbarian mage in the land of magisters, Hawke refused to give up, and took the magisterium by storm. She'd won admirers and enemies alike, but she refused to let the new world sway her; she would not forget everything her father taught her. She was determined to use her power for good, so when she found herself in possession of a very distinct slave, Hawke simply had to help him in anyway she could. However, when the vipers of Minrathious started to close in, threatening the only family she had left, Hawke knew she would do anything she could to protect them. No matter the cost. But where does that leave her and the branded elf who captured her heart?*Edited/updated version of a story I wrote in 2018*





	1. Chapter 1

With his head lowered in submission, Fenris followed the young elven woman that led him through the white marble and gilt halls. His mind was still reeling at the implications of his new situation, because despite the rumours he'd overheard, there was no real telling what sort of owner his new mistress would be. However, he'd been trained well enough to follow obediently behind the servant who'd quietly introduced herself as Orana, and his steps only faltered when he heard the unexpected sound of children playing. For the first time since arriving at the villa, Fenris chanced raising his olive eyes from the tiled floor, peeking through his shocking white fringe at the blonde elf in front of him. He had not known the household had children.

“Lady Hawke's brother died in battle,” the woman explained, without prompting. “He left a child born out of wedlock, the mother died in child birth. Lady Hawke raises her niece as her own.”

Fenris gave the barest hint of a nod in acknowledgement. Of course he'd heard some of Magister Hawke's history, few in Minrathus hadn't. Daughter of an apostate mage from the barbaric dog lands, with a brother killed in service to their king, and a sister killed by darkspawn. She'd delivered her mother to the woman's homeland of the Free Marches, and quickly restored their dwindled family to their ancestral nobility, only to lose her mother to a rogue necromancer. It was rumoured Magister Hawke had fled the City of Chains, in fear of being branded tranquil after her very public revenge, and had sought refuge in Tevinter, where she'd taken the magisterium by storm. Because of course she had. Powerful, charismatic, beautiful and exotic; with her porcelain skin, sapphire eyes and burnished copper hair. She was an anomaly in a land of olive skin, dark hair and eyes, and all the more fabled for it. However, there'd never been mention of a child, and a single girl did not explain the raucousness Fenris could hear on the other side of the gilt door. But with mounting trepidation he followed his fellow elf into the room, not surprised to find himself in an ornate sun room with his mistress reclining on a chaise longue, since she would undoubtedly still be recovering from her duel with his old mistress. What shocked him though, was seeing a dark haired toddler clambering all over the resting magister, whilst an older dark skinned girl and a clearly elven boy sat at the foot of the chaise. Both were talking animatedly, laughing along with his mistress at the toddler's antics.

“Children of the servants,” Orana whispered, before raising her voice: “Lady Hawke, the last of Magister Danarius' household has arrived.”

Both his mistress and the children looked up at the sound of her voice, and the magister gifted his fellow elf an unexpectedly warmly smile, even as she gently shooed the children away from her. The dark skinned girl took the toddler's hand, and the elven boy led them off to the inner courtyard, whilst Magister Hawke's voice called a reminded not to mess with 'Cookie's' garden. The boy waved some sort of salute, more dismissal than acknowledgement, and Fenris was stunned that his mistress laughed, instead of dealing out punishment to the insolent child. However, his instincts kicked the moment he saw his mistress struggle to stand; immediately rushing forward and catching her hand and elbow before she fell back to the plush gold velvet. Though the moment he realised what he'd done, Fenris crashed to his knees, his head pressed to the cold marble as he prostrated at the magister's feet.

“Please Domina,” he grovelled. “This slaves knows it is not his place, that he had no right to presume to touch his mistress. Please Domina, punish me as you see fit. I promise to serve you better.”

* * *

Stunned, Hawke glanced helplessly at Orana, before staring down at the top of the tattooed elf's head. She didn't have a clue what to do. Instinct had her wanting to crouch down and console the man, reassure him that he hadn't done anything wrong. In fact, Hawke was grateful he'd come to her aid, since she was still far too weak from her duel for her liking. However, experience had taught her that was rarely the best course of action when dealing with slaves. Rescuing Orana had been a steep learning curve, one Hawke knew she probably wouldn't have weathered if not for dear Bodahn. However, her house steward was currently out in the market, leaving her completely out of her depth. But thankfully, sweet Orana seemed to know what to do.

“Fenris, Lady Hawke wishes you to rise,” she stated, calmly. “She does not require such demonstrations of subservience.”

Slowly and cautiously, the elf... Fenris... raised his head, though still didn't meet her eyes.

“I am sorry Domina,” he apologised again. “For failing to anticipate the rules of your house. I will gladly receive whatever punishment you deem appropriate.”

“No... no,” she said, hurriedly. “You did nothing wrong. You cannot be expected to know the... rules here. I'm not going to... you don't deserve to be punished. You've done nothing wrong.”

To Hawke's alarm, Fenris bent down again to kiss her sandalled feet. “Domina is too kind. This slave knows he doesn't deserve your benevolence, but humbly accepts your great kindness.”

With her mouth going dry, she looked towards Orana, panic starting to sink in. None of the other slaves they'd rescued had been this brainwashed; scared and timid certainly, but not offering themselves for punishment, then acting like it was a favour not to be beaten. Even the others from Danarius' estate. It made Hawke shuddered to think what this poor man had been subjected to, though the stark white markings of the lyrium brands gave some hint of what he'd endured at that bastard's hands. Thankfully, Orana understood her silent plea, and daintily sat at the edge of the chaise longue, gently pulling Hawke with her. Fenris' olive eyes flashed up to his fellow elf, and Hawke's heart hurt to see the fear in his eyes... fear for another in her service. She knew from experience it was far too soon to explain the situation to him. That those he met were her servants not slaves, and that even now, a draft of her petition to release him was already on it's way to her beloved friend Varric; because despite being in Kirkwall, the dwarf was the only person Hawke trusted not to meddle with the document. He would review it thoughtfully and critically, check for any mistakes she might have made, before ensuring it found the desk of the right official, even from his great distance away.

“As I said, Fenris here is the last of the magister's estate to arrive,” the blonde elf smiled, demurely.

“I trust that harpy was no problem for you,” Hawke replied, her own smile slightly tense.

“I did have to remind Hadriana that you do not appreciate others upsetting your staff,” Orana stated, only a little hesitantly. “The amulet you had Sandal enchant for me worked marvellously.”

“I'm so sorry I put you in that position,” she apologised, taking hold of her friend's hands.

The elf shook her head. “I am not. It was... cathartic to stand up to her myself.”

* * *

Fenris looked between the two women as subtly as he could, only now realising why the blonde elf looked so familiar. He'd seen her several times before, serving in his master's... his old master's... apprentice's household. But he hadn't recognised her, since she was free of the gaudy face paint the wretched woman had required of her female slaves, to ensure they were always less attractive than she was. Which in Fenris' rebellious thoughts, was fairly impossible. However, Orana looked in good health now, less frail than when he'd last seen her serving at one of the altus' awful conviviums. And although she was not clothed in silks like their mistress, her dress was of obvious good quality; far better than the too short trousers and scratchy, open necked shirt the bondsmen had put him in. His armour confiscated so his new mistress could to do as she pleased with it, just as she could with him. A thought that had slightly terrified him, when he'd seen her servant... Orana... blast Hadriana across the room thanks to an enchanted necklace she wore.

But seeing the two women together, now knowing who the elf was, Fenris didn't know what to think. It was obvious that Orana was no longer a slave; because Maker-above, she dared to speak before being spoken to, and even sat next to their mistress without recourse. Fenris hadn't even encountered servants with the audacity to do that, and he was once again left reeling at the implication of how very different his mistress' household was. But before he could think on it further, there was a sharp knock at the door, before two dwarves walked in without waiting to be called. The elder had thick chestnut hair and a neatly trimmed beard, dressed in a smart red doublet. The younger was blond, beardless and looked a little vacant.

“Enchantment?” the young dwarf said, sounding confused.

“They're out in the courtyard dear,” the mistress replied. “I'm sure they'd love for you to join them.”

“Enchantment?” the boy asked again, slowly this time.

The mistress chuckled. “Of course you can take that silly old mutt with you. I daresay he'd just follow you anyway.”

The magister gave a low whistle, that summoned a truly terrifying hound that bounded through the door, did a quick lap around Fenris and the two women on the chaise, before scampering towards the Orlesian doors that had been left ajar to the courtyard. The young dwarf hurried after the dog, but stopped briefly as he neared Orana.

“Enchantment?” he asked, this time seeming concerned.

“Oh, the amulet worked beautifully,” the elf gushed. “It was marvellous. Thank you, Sandal.”

“Enchantment!”

With that final exclamation, the young dwarf ran to the courtyard with the hound, and Fenris was left to wonder what exactly had just happened; the whole scene had made no sense. Though before he could think on it further, his mistress was shakily getting to her feet with Orana's help, and Fenris' own fingers twitched, undecided if he should also aid her or not. However, he opted to stay kneeling at her feet, looking up at her and dutifully awaiting whatever order she gave him.

* * *

Trying not to frown at the elf kneeling at her feet, Hawke decided introductions were in order: “Bodahn, this is Fenris. Fenris, this is Bodahn Feddic, overseer extraordinaire.”

The dwarf shook his head. “Man servant only.”

“House Stewart,” she corrected.

“Butler,” he countered.

“Dear and beloved friend, who I wouldn't survive without.” Hawke concluded, raising her eyebrow in challenge.

Orana giggled beside her, used to this familiar debate, whilst Bodahn merely sighed in good nature. However, Hawke couldn't ignore the brief look of shock that flashed in Fenris' eyes, when she glanced at him. The poor man looked so utterly confused, and she couldn't think for the life of her how to make him fell more comfortable... safe... since she could appreciate how terribly foreign this all must have been to him.

“Just as bad as your cousin ever was,” Bodahn chuckled, before turning to Fenris. “Messere Hawke flatters me greatly, but it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Hawke's stomach churned as the elf turn fearful eyes to her again, almost as if he was seeking permission to reply. It was physical painful to see someone brought so low, and she couldn't think of anything to do other than give him an encouraging smile. Fenris' soulful eyes immediately returned to the marble tiles, though he inclined his head in a respectful nod towards Bodahn; all the while remaining kneeling.

“It is an honour to be in Domina's household,” he replied, dutifully.

Bodahn shared a quick look with both Hawke and Orana. The elf's eyes were sad with understanding, and her own smile was strained. She hadn't the first idea how to explain she wasn't his mistress, especially considering many of the former slaves she'd rescued _still_ insisted on calling her so. Hawke winced internally every time, but tried not to let them see it bothered her when she gently corrected them; after all, she didn't want them to think they were in trouble, especially for a mere slip of the tongue. And Hawke had a sinking feeling that it would be a hard won battle... for both her and Fenris... to help him through the transition.

“I think it might be a good time to show Fenris around the villa,” she suggested, with forced cheeriness. “If you are not otherwise indisposed?”

“It would be a pleasure, Messere,” Bodahn assured, before turning to Orana. “Would you care to accompany us, dear?”

“As long as Lady Hawke does not need me, Serah,” Orana demurred.

Hawke valiantly hid her smirk as she looked between the two. She might not indulge in gossip, household or otherwise, but it was no big secret the two were fond of each other, despite the age gap.

“You'll have a better time than helping me file letters,” she assured. “Go right ahead.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

Fenris' head was almost spinning as he knelt on the plush carpet. The tour had taken longer than he'd anticipated, and he wasn't sure how to act around his mistress' servants, who were all inexplicably polite to him; even the slaves from his old master's estate, that were obviously still terrified of him. He'd discovered the dwarf was the head of the household staff, with Orana now lady's maid for the mistress. He'd met the chef who everyone referred to as 'Cookie', the housekeeper and head gardener. All had been polite. As had the maids, grooms, gardeners and footmen he'd met; some had even offered him small, understanding smiles. Fenris hadn't known what to make of it, and that was before Senioris Bodahn took him to his study. He was nervous yet followed dutifully, but nearly had a mild panic attack at being _asked_ what _his_ preference of role was. He'd barely been able to stammer that he'd been trained as a body guard, expecting a lashing at any moment for his ineloquent response. However, the dwarf had merely chuckled, and muttered something about 'Messere Hawke' definitely needing the extra protection... whether she liked it or not... before cheerfully announcing a room had been set up for him beside the magister's.

His heart had hammered in his chest upon entering the cream coloured room, immediately noticing a door that surely led to his mistress' chamber, and understood the implications all too well. After all, his old master had insisted he serviced him on a regular basis; his altus too, if she'd particularly pleased him, which was far too often for Fenris. Still, he supposed it might not be so bad with his new mistress. She'd seemed genteel so far, the servants had spoken highly of her, and it seemed he was at least being allowed his own room. A room far too opulent for a slave, but perhaps it was meant to be incentive to serve her well. He'd only been slightly surprised to learn that Orana's room was also connected to the magister's, though via a shared bathroom. Fenris supposed it made sense, given that her duties involved helping 'Lady Hawke' with her appearance, and ensuring her fine clothes remained in pristine condition. He'd hesitantly accepted Orana's shy offer to show him her room, and learnt it similar to his own, yet styled in sage green and muted silvers. Fenris had been stunned to learn that his mistress had allowed the elf to decorate the room how she liked... encouraged it even... and he'd almost baulked at the suggestion that his mistress would surely allow him to do the same.

Magister Hawke's household was nothing like he was used to, and it left Fenris off kilter. He'd ate in a small dining room off the kitchens, with the rest of the servants that evening; a meal all of his own instead of scraps from his mistress' plate. He'd been given leave to bathe himself, which he'd done dutifully and dressed in the stunningly soft cotton trews that had been left for him. However, he hadn't seen his mistress since leaving her in the sun room, and as dusk came and went, followed by the majority of the staff turning in for the night with still no sign of her, Fenris made a tentative decision. Surely, he wouldn't have been given a room adjoining hers without reason, and though he hadn't been summoned, Fenris hoped his small show of initiative might curry favour with his new mistress. He was certain he'd be able to service his mistress adequately, even if she returned with a lover, since he was no stranger to being shared and used in such away. So dressed in only the trews he'd been provided, Fenris knelt at the foot of her bed facing the door. He hung his head, hands clasped behind his back, but with his bare torso and markings on full display... just as he'd been taught. And with his heart racing, he waited.

* * *

The candle had flickered and guttered out before Hawke had realised how late it had gotten. She'd forgone dinner, and instead picked at the plate of cheese and cold cuts that Bodahn had insisted on bringing her, when he'd come to inform her of Fenris' desired role. Having a body guard seemed a little extreme to Hawke, but if that's what the elf was most comfortable with, then she could hardly refuse him. It did leave the problem of finding him comfortable armour and a suitable weapon, and Hawke supposed she'd probably need to train with him too, but that was of little consequence if it helped Fenris settle in. But that was an issue for another day. So blinking tiredly, she'd capped the inkwell, stacked her books and unfiled papers, before leaving her study. As Hawke walked along the silent corridors, her mind was filled with ideas for training schedules, and a list of merchants and craftsmen she'd need to contact. She was so lost in thought as she walked into her chamber, that it took her several moments to realise she wasn't alone. There, knelt half naked at the foot of her bed, white hair and silver markings glistening in the wan moonlight was Fenris. Confused and hesitant to approach him lest he get the wrong idea, Hawke gently called his name.

“I am here at your service, Domina,” he said, his eyes downcast.

“I doubt anyone will send assassins after me so soon after my victory,” she said, feigning a smirk. “So I'm sure you can have the night off and get some rest.”

“I live to serve, Domina. I am here, subject to your whims. Use me as you see fit.”

Bile rose in Hawke's throat, as realisation dawned. “You're... you're no longer required to perform those services.”

“Domina. This slave knows he is repulsive to look upon, knows he is not worthy to service you. But please, Domina. Allow me to show my devotion. I know how to please, I was trained well,” Fenris stated, an edge of desperation creeping into his voice. “This slave knows it is not his place to ask Domina for anything, for he is already lucky to be in her service, but please Domina. Allow me to prove myself to you. My master... my old master... let his altus teach me how to please a woman. She had me demonstrate during the epulums she helped organise. I... I... never received complaint.”

“Fenris. You're... you're not here for that. I don't expect that. I don't want that,” Hawke managed, her voice wavering.

To her utter shock, a shudder seemed to ripple through Fenris' whole body as he fully prostrated himself at her feet, and her heart broke when he collected the courage to look up at her; Hawke had never seen anyone look more desperate or terrified.

“Domina. Please, I beg you, do not send me away. I am sorry I repulse you so. This slave should not have presumed he was worthy to touch you. I am sorry, Domina. Please, punish me as you see fit. I am disgusting and worthless, but I promise to serve you however you need. Use me as you see fit, but please, I beg you, don't send me away.”

Unable to help herself, Hawke knelt in front of him. As gently as she could, she got Fenris to sit back on his haunches, before carefully cradling his face in her hands. Tears were welling in her eyes as he looked back at her, his face so open and fearful; Hawke was almost tempted to raise that bastard Danarius from the dead, just to kill him again. Slowly and painfully. To make him pay for what he'd done to this poor man, and with the Maker as her witness, Hawke swore Hadriana better start watching her back. Because she would get Fenris his revenge.

* * *

Fenris' heart pounded erratically in his chest as his mistress held his face. No... held wasn't quite the right word, her touch was gentle, like she was trying to give him comfort. As subtly as he could, he swallowed passed the lump of emotion that had lodged in his throat. He wasn't sure why, but despite knowing how ugly and undesirable he was, Fenris couldn't help feeling upset that his mistress was so repulsed by him, that she wouldn't even let him please her. Because even if she wasn't into men, Fenris knew he could have serviced her; since his old master's altus had taught him how to use his mouth, for when she couldn't be bothered to exert the energy to take what she wanted from him. So he knew he could provide for his new mistress, but she'd obviously been horrified at the idea, the thought of touching him too disgusting to bare. But now... now his mistress was cradling his face, her thumbs stroking his cheekbones almost soothingly as she deigned to lower herself to _kneel_ before him.

“Fenris... I'm not going to send you away, you can stay as long as you like. And by the Maker, you're bloody stunning! You're possibly the most beautiful man I have ever seen,” his mistress said, sounding surprisingly frantic. “This isn't about that... because seriously, you're... you're gorgeous. But it _isn't_ about that. This... what you proposed... it isn't right. And that's not your fault,” she hastened to add. “None of this is your fault. But what you're proposing, it's... it's not right.”

“Domina, I... I don't understand,” he admitted, hesitantly.

“It's rape, Fenris. They forced themselves on you, forced you to please them, used you for their own sick pleasure. It's rape, and it's not right. You should never have had to go through that, and I refuse to do something like that to anyone.”

Fenris couldn't argue with that. He had hated, vehemently hated, every time his old master and his altus had come for him, had bent him to their will. He could not blame his mistress for not wanting to participate in that. He had felt violated and humiliated every time, whether it was a private affair or if he was publicly shared with their guests. However, he was a slave, he was powerless to stop it and knew the price for disobedience. He'd been trained well, knew his place, he knew he had to serve. But this, this was different. Fenris had _never_ offered himself to another before, not of his own free will, not without being commanded to do so first. So if his mistress truly didn't find him repulsive like she claimed, there should be no problem. He was offering to please her, so it could not be rape. Cautiously, Fenris told her as much, then watched stunned as a tear rolled down her cheek.

“Fenris, even though I mean it when I say it's in name only, you are still a slave until the senate signs off my petition to free you,” she said, solemnly. “Legally, you don't have the autonomy to offer anything, and even that is besides the point. You're a person, Fenris, but you've been taught to think otherwise. How you think and how you feel matter, and I know that's a foreign concept right now, but it's very important that you know that.” She paused for a moment, taking a shuddering breath before continuing. “Right now, you don't know how to have your own thoughts and desires. They conditioned you to think only of others, to think being used and treated appallingly is what you deserve. And from my experience of helping people like Orana, I know it's going to take a long time for you to accept that. But until you do, until you realise you're a person who has real worth, who is allowed to think and feel freely, who is allowed to have preferences, wants, desires... who's allowed to say no... any sex would be rape. I couldn't in good conscious allow that to happen. You deserve so much more than what you've gone through. All I want to do is help you.”

The lump in Fenris' throat had seemed to swell, and his heart was pounding, when he dared look into his mistress' sapphire eyes. He felt confused; unused to the way she spoke to him, the manner she seemed to view him. This was nothing like he'd experienced before. It was terrifying, but in a completely different way than serving his old master was. However, the one thing Fenris cautiously thought was that his new mistress was kind, and despite being puzzled by it, he couldn't help nuzzling his face into the palm of her hand in silent gratitude for her gentle attention.

 


	3. Chapter 3

During the following month, the incident in her chamber thankfully did not repeat itself. Occasionally Fenris would linger in her room longer than necessary after she'd retired for the night, long passed the need to check for intruders. He'd hesitate, not quite reaching the adjoining door of their rooms, and glance between her and the ornate four poster bed, as if expecting to be called back at any moment, despite her assurances. Though thankfully, he never once offered his services again; and always took her small smile and whispered 'good night' as the reassurance it was. However, that wasn't to say everything was going smoothly. Hawke hated that he still insisted on calling her Domina, and the senate had dragged it's heels agreeing to her petition to make Fenris a freeman. Apparently, he was famed as a valuable slave, and many had offered to buy him from her if she was really that eager to be rid of him. However, after some political wrangling with help from some of Varric's contacts... that had incidently introduced Hawke to her only friend outside her household staff, who happened to be the scion of House Pavus... she had finally been able to secure Fenris' freedom.

The mild panic attack he'd had upon hearing the news was not a great shock, but it had only taken Hawke one hour to calm Fenris down enough to offer him the _paid_ position of her body guard. Unsurprisingly, the idea had been a foreign concept to him, but after speaking to Orana and several other members of staff who were freed slaves, he'd agreed. Hawke hoped it would be a turning point. However, another month had passed by before the elf had tentatively explained to her that his brands hurt, and that the call of her mana exacerbated it further. But she honestly doubted Fenris would have ever mentioned it, if he hadn't collapsed during a particularly intense training session they'd subjected themselves to. He'd actually passed out due to the pain, only waking hours later, frantic at find himself in his own bed and expecting... near begging... to be punished. Getting him to explain what had happened was like pulling teeth, but eventually Hawke had gotten the halting story from him, which had driven her to pour her free time into researching the papers she'd taken from Danarius' estate in the aftermath of their duel. She'd discovered spells that would help soothe the pain as well as complicated, magically infused balms, but nothing that could stop the pain all together. Unfortunately to her disgust, she'd also found several detailed pages on how to exploit the brands. Instructions on how to draw the lyrium from Fenris' body, rituals that would bring him to the point of death but not tip him over, spells supposedly meant for discipline that would tortuously increase his pain, and incantations that could turn the brands to practically lightening rods for carnal desires; which footnotes claimed made him into a jabbering wreck, who begged to be used. In a fit of anger, Hawke had burned the lot with her own fire magic, annihilating the wretched knowledge.

A third month flew by before she discovered Fenris was illiterate, two weeks more before she'd coaxed him into allowing her to teach him to read, and another one until him agree to try learning how to write. For Hawke's own ease, he took the majority of his lessons with her young niece, the two servant's children and Sandal. All were at a completely different level, but she'd gotten used to that whilst teaching her siblings and the other children back in Lothering. However, much to her delight, Fenris started joining in with the impromptu book clubs she had with Bodahn, Orana and occasionally Dorian Pavus. He never contributed much when the altus was present, intent on acting the stoic body guard, but when it was just their house hold, Fenris would hesitantly sit in a vacant chair and ask questions about the books they were discussing. The fourth month had Fenris finally, _finally_ , walking beside her when they left the villa, not to mention he started to feel comfortable enough to voice his preferences. His comment of 'not fish' one evening when asked for his thoughts for dinner, had genuinely left Hawke feeling elated and grinning like a fool. It was so much progress in such a short amount of time, and honestly, she couldn't have been prouder of him.

* * *

Fenris almost found it hard to believe it had been five months since Danarius' death, it felt equally too short and too long a time. He felt like a different man. For one, he was no longer a slave but a freeman; though thankfully still a member of the Hawke household. He had a wage and belongings that were truly his, and even more surprising than that, thanks to Messere Hawke's kindness, he could now read and write. And that was another thing that had slowly changed over the months, he no called her mistress. Because although she would always be domina of the house, Fenris understood she was his employer not his owner; and on braver days, he even consider her a friend. On those days he couldn't help feeling a little insolent, daring to consider himself important enough for her to consider him so. But Messere Hawke had been unfailing kind and supportive, and from what he'd learnt from living in her household, that was the sort of things friends did. However, on his truly daring days... that were rare, yet still happened occasionally... Fenris allowed himself to consider _more_.

There had been an incident, not long after she'd gently turned him away from her bed, where he'd walked in on her bathing. Danarius and Hadriana had often demanded his presence, and Orana had been with her, so still believing himself a slave, Fenris presumed it was his duty to be on hand in case she wanted him. He'd been witness to the alluring expanse of her toned back, water trickling down her spine as she listened to Orana talking animatedly about the latest hair styles. She'd turned slightly at the sound of his footsteps, and Fenris' mouth had inexplicably gone dry at the hinted curve of her breast. However, he didn't get chance to process his reaction before her lady's maid was very loudly scolding him, shooing him out of the bath room. Messere Hawke herself had merely laughed, leaning against the side of the sunken pool as she tossed a wet face cloth in his direction. The sight of her easy grin and mischievous eyes had been burned into his brain, even as Orana slammed the door in his face. He'd waited in her room after that, nervous and ashamed, a blush colouring his cheeks and burning his ears when she'd finally emerged from the bathroom. She'd been clad in only a short red silk wrap, her hair falling in wet waves over her shoulder as she padded bare foot across the soft carpet. He'd fallen to his knees, begging for her forgiveness, only for have the words die on his tongue when she's unexpectedly carded her fingers through his shaggy white locks. The gesture had left him breathless, and he'd barely registered her assurance there was nothing to forgive, even as his gaze had followed her until she disappeared behind the changing screen as she continued to talk to him.

So on his most daring days, he would run his own hands through his hair, trying to mimic how Messere Hawke's touch had felt. On his most daring days, Fenris imagined that instead of walking to the screen, she'd headed towards her grand bed; letting her wrap fall coquettishly to the floor, before glancing over her shoulder at him alluringly. He didn't know what to imagine after that, not when he knew how she felt about taking him to bed, but just that was enough. There was even one night Fenris had been brave enough to touch himself with that thought in his mind, and although he couldn't meet Messere Hawke's eye for a week afterwards out of guilt, he wasn't quite remorseful enough not to let his thoughts wander again. Which was helped by the fact Fenris was _certain_ he'd caught Messere Hawke looking at him one day... dare he say admiringly... when the heat of the Tevinter sun and the intensity of their daily training, had driven him to remove his shirt. He'd dunked his head in a bucket of well water to try cool off, only to feel the telltale pickle of his skin of someone watching him. Immediately he was on high alert, worried for Messere Hawke's safety, only to find her looking away from him quickly, a small coy smile tugging at her full lips. And when he lay in bed that night, it was that moment he thought of as his hand drifted beneath his sleepwear.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Fenris was still trying to get used to the new armour Messere Hawke had commissioned for him, which was nothing like what Danarius had him wear. Somehow it was as soft against his constantly throbbing skin like a magister's robes, supple as a rogue's leathers but with the durability of a warrior's armour. He wasn't sure how she had done it, nothing passed she'd asked a friend back in Kirkwall to have it made, at least. It had taken some time for the armour to reach Minrathous, and Fenris had been stunned that Messere Hawke had cancelled engagements the day it arrived, just so she could cast protective spells on it. Her obvious care had truly humbled him. But the armour was still so knew, that Fenris was still trying to adapt to the feel of it, whilst pondering over the effort she'd made for him, as he did his early morning patrol of the villa's private wing. But as he drew nearer to her chamber door, his musing stopped abruptly along with his steps, at the sound of a male voice coming from Messere Hawke's room.

Fenris frowned, an unfamiliar feeling settling like a lead weight in his gut as he instinctively went to her door. He felt... uncomfortable, knowing there was a man in her room; though he was hesitant to dwell on the reason why. He was simply her body guard after all, no longer a slave perhaps, but certainly in no position to have feelings regarding her private life. However, that didn't stop him from politely knocking at her door, and waited patiently, until he heard Messere Hawke call for him to enter. However, Fenris was not sure he was happy with the sight that greeted him. Because as enticing as the sight of her clad in only the silk robe she usually wore after bathing was, Fenris' gut churned at Altus Pavus reclining on her ornate bed as if he belonged there. The man was everything Messere Hawke deserved in a partner; handsome, powerful, charismatic, and from the few times Fenris had encountered him, seemed to genuinely care for Messere Hawke. However, Altus Pavus was everything he was not; a fact that certainly didn't help when the man gave him a lazy smile.

“Ah, Fenris. Would you be a dear and tell our beautiful little bird here which dress she should wear?” the altus drawled. “Of course, she would look ravishing in any colour, but her dithering is getting awfully tiresome. Perhaps _you_ could spur her along, hmm?”

Despite how much he wanted to snarl at the man's familiarity, for some reason, Fenris' heart began to hammer in his chest as he turned to look at Messere Hawke. She was a beautiful woman, and he could admit he had spent far too much of his night times considering her, but he'd never dared admire her out of the privacy of his own thoughts. However, she was looking at him expectantly, as if his opinion actually mattered to her. So he swallowed thickly, finally noticing the three dresses that hung on the changing screen. Begrudgingly, Fenris had to agree with the altus that Messere Hawke would look stunning in any of them, however as uncomfortable as it was to admit, he did have a preference.

“Gold,” he answered, a little gruffly.

Fenris liked the way her burnished copper hair looked against the colour, he liked the way it subtly warmed her porcelain complexion. However, his heart hammered in his chest at the thought of having to explain his reasoning, though thankfully, Orana chose that moment to come bustling out of Messere Hawke's dressing room.

“Serah Fenris has excellent taste,” she complimented, smiling. “I for one was hoping Lady Hawke would choose that dress, it's such a daring yet flattering cut.”

* * *

A tiny thrum of excitement rippled down Hawke's spine as she stepped out from behind the changing screen. She'd gone with the dress Fenris had chosen; gorgeous golden silk that barely covered her bust and a strip down the middle of her torso before meeting a full, floor length skirt. The cut left her hips and sides exposed, as well as a daring amount of cleavage. It was backless, and only held up thanks to the sparkling gold and serault glass chains that arched over her shoulders and cascaded down her back. Hawke felt like a goddess in the dress, not to mention the sweeping up-do and golden make up Orana had done for her. And if the stunned look on Fenris' face was anything to go by, the outfit had the desired affect.

“So, what do you think?” she asked, turning to give him the full view.

Fenris' ears tinged pink as he falteringly replied: “Words would not do you justice, mea femina.”

Despite her Tevene having improved greatly, Hawke didn't quite catch the end of his sentence. But before she could question him, a gong chimed from else where in the villa, alerting the household that the first guests had arrived. How Dorian had convinced her to throw a Wintersend gala Hawke didn't know, but he had. So she linked arms with Fenris, offering him a warm smile as he blinked at her in surprise, before offering her a hesitant smile in return. Though despite how much she would have loved to genuinely attend on the elf's arm, she knew it wasn't safe for either of them to do so; not to mention she'd tried valiantly to trample her attraction to the warrior. After all, six months was not a long time to be a freeman after a life of slavery, and Hawke couldn't bare the though of making Fenris uncomfortable. Or worse, having him feel indebted to her and force himself to reciprocate her feelings. However, that didn't stop the wistful want, as he escorted her down the gilded staircase. Nor did it stop her wishing Fenris could be her date, so she could avoid the inevitable marriage proposals that would undoubtedly follow tonight. In all honesty, Hawke was rather dreading the moment she had to leave Fenris' side to go mingle with her guests, many who she couldn't even stand. Though thankfully, much to her relief, Dorian was inexplicably standing at the foot of the stairs waiting for her. Hawke could hardly believe it, considering her friend was known for being fashionably late to _everything_... even his own birthday celebration... and she couldn't have been happier to see him.

“My darling amatus,” Dorian greeted, smiling warmly. “You are a goddess made flesh; so dazzling that all eyes will be upon you. I would be annoyed that you'll be stealing attention away from my glorious self. Though since it is my honour to escort you tonight, I can look passed that most grievous transgression.”

Hawke snorted, inelegantly. “You are such a prat.”

“And you adore me for it,” he drawled.

She shrugged, unabashed, figuring there was no point denying the truth. After all, she did adore the man, even if he was a diva. And she was truly grateful he intended to be her escort that evening, which perhaps she should have guessed sooner, since Dorian was wearing a flamboyant robe in the same shade as her dress, over tan trews. He grinned at her, obviously realising she'd just noticed his attire, and Hawke had to admit it was a savvy move, anyone could tell they were arriving together. Though, as she unlinked her arm from Fenris' to take Dorian's offered one, it felt as if the elf held on to her hand for a heartbeat. For a moment Hawke wondered if she'd imagined it... just another wistful want... until she glanced up at Fenris to find him scowling at Dorain; almost as if in warning. However, his face softened as he turned his attention to her, and Hawke's breath caught in her throat when he stated:

“Remember, Messere, you need only say the word and I am at your service.”

From the look in Fenris' eyes, Hawke got the impression he meant as more than just a body guard; though that was probably just wishful thinking.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Mea femina' is latin for 'My lady'


	5. Chapter 5

Fenris attacked the training dummy with perhaps more gusto than it deserved, but he had to work out the burning rage he felt somehow. He'd spent three days beating himself up idiotically offering himself to Messere Hawke again, equally thankful and disappointed that she never brought it up after her convivium. However, just that morning he'd gone to the market with her and her adopted daughter; the little miss quickly growing tired, despite originally insisting on walking. Not much thought had gone into offering to carry the child, though his ears had burned when Messere Hawke had shockingly kissed his cheek in silent thanks. It was too much to hope that her gesture hadn't been noticed, because Minrathious was a pit of vipers. However, it might not have been too bad it the little miss hadn't dozed off on his shoulder, only to wake up confused and call him 'Papa'. Not having the heart to remind the child her father was dead, Fenris had merely soothed her, promising her that 'mama' would be done soon and they could go 'home'. But of course, a private conversation between a magister's child and their body guard could not remain private in a city so full of vipers. Rumours had rapidly spread, and it had barely been noon before the first missives started to arrive.

It had continued all after noon, Messere Hawke occasionally reading some allowed to him, though more often than not, she simply set them on fire; Fenris could easily imagine how abhorrent the other magister's were being. He'd cursed himself for being so stupid, for not thinking of where they were when he'd comforted the girl. He'd almost gone and begged Messere Hawke for punishment, only just managing to offer his resignation instead, if she so wished. The relief that she didn't want to send him away had been palpable, but it was short lived. Senioris Bodahn had apologetically arrived with another stack of letters, and shortly after, a worried looking Orana had announced that Altus Pavus had arrived to see her and refused to take no for an answer. Fenris had stood stiffly as the altus had all but stormed into the room; doubting the man would harm Messere Hawke, but fully expecting to be attacked for the perceived offence of daring to father his former mistress' child, since it was obvious the man had been courting Messere Hawke for some time. However, Altus Pavus instead threw his arms around his lady the moment she stepped around her desk, hugging her tight and whispering reassurances. Fenris had swallowed thickly, his heart twisting at the sight, and was unable to bare being in the room when Messere Hawke suddenly began to cry. She'd held it together all day, even managing to convincingly fake smiles for her daughter and the other children of the household. But once in the altus' arms she broke down, and Fenris felt wretched when he heard her whisper there had already been threats against her child.

His heart hurt to hear her anguish, it hurt to know his thoughtlessness had put her daughter in danger, and he silent raged that it was all just lies. Because he knew those vipers wouldn't care for the truth; that the girl was actually Messere Hawke's niece, never mind looked nothing like him. The magisters had gotten their juicy piece of dirt on the foreign upstart, and Fenris knew from experience that her enemies would make her life hell. Though despite his desperate want to be there for her, to support her... and selfishly be given the chance to perhaps comfort her... he couldn't bare to watch as the altus sat down in one of the plush armchairs of her study, and pulled Messere Hawke into his lap. It was too much to bare, Fenris felt heart sick at the sight, and hurriedly made some feeble excuse about patrolling the grounds; unable to see the woman he had undoubtedly fallen in love with, in the arms of another man.

* * *

Hawke curled up in Dorian's laps, her head resting of his well defined chest, whilst his muscular arms wrapped tight around her. The spicy scent of his cologne was comforting, and she gave a shuddering breath; she wished Varric was there, her best friend always knew what to do. But Dorian wasn't doing too bad a job, he really was a wonderful friend. Certainly better than she herself had been. She'd been too panicked all day to consider what Fenris must be going through, and it wasn't until he was sombrely offering his resignation, that Hawke had finally realised how retched he felt about it all, like it was somehow his fault. Thankfully, he'd agreed to stay; a relief not only because Hawke knew they really would need a bodyguard now, but because she hated the thought of never seeing him again. She cared for Fenris too much to bare that fate. However, her niece was her top priority, and knew she desperately had to think of a plan to keep the child safe. But Hawke had run out of options hours ago, knowing those two-faced bastards would never accept the truth. It was then that Dorian had stormed in like the proverbial white knight, though he'd be hesitant to tell her his idea, and after hearing it, Hawke could appreciate why. At first she'd protested, hating the thought of 'trapping' her friend like that, despite being grateful for the generous offer. Though after several minutes of intense discussion, Dorian had reluctantly let slip about the blood ritual he'd discovered his own father was planning. Her stomach had lurched at hearing the news, and she'd quickly realised his plan would not only safe guard her adopted daughter, but would protect her friend as well. Hawke herself would be able to weather the storm created by the rumours, which in turn meant she'd keep her seat in the senate so she'd be able to keep pushing for slave reforms, _and_ Fenris would remain protected as a member of her household.

“So it's agreed? I'll publicly declare her as my own, and we're going with the story we liaised in Kirkwall whilst I was in the Free Marshes on business for Alexius?” Dorian asked, gently.

“It's the only story that's remotely believable,” she admitted, quietly. “How is this going to affect your apprenticeship? And how are you going to tell Felix?”

Dorian sighed. “I'm having to dissolve my apprenticeship. Alexius... discovered Felix and myself in a less than favourable situation. I presume it's how my father truly found out about... well... me.”

Hawke cupped his face. “I'm so sorry, love. You shouldn't have to be dealing with this sort of thing, there's nothing wrong with you. And I hope you realise I don't expect you to stop seeing Felix, or any other man for that matter, once we're married.”

“Thank you, amatus,” he replied, hugging her tighter. “Our marriage will at least give me a respectable reason for ending my apprenticeship, and with me claiming a child as mine, my father cannot contest or disprove that I've provided a Pavus heir.” Dorian paused to kiss her temple. “We'll have to change her name though, publicly I mean. Her name is much too...”

“Barbaric?” Hawke supplied, rolling her eyes.

“I was going for unrefined,” he teased, lightly. “Amelia would suffice, as no one could argue about honouring your mother's noble heritage, yet it still sounds suitably Tevene.”

“You're probably right,” she conceded, before looking up at him. “You do realise you're not going home tonight. I don't care if we're not announcing our engagement until tomorrow. I don't trust your father.”

“I appreciate that, though I suggest you talk to your elf about what is happening,” Dorian advised, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Fenris is not my anything,” Hawke replied, sounding a tad too dejected about it for her liking.

Dorian chuckled. “The man is besotted with you dear, and it's obvious you care for him too. He's no longer a slave, there is nothing to lose in telling him how you feel. Besides, you will not want to hurt him with news of our wedding. If anyone deserves the truth, it's your Fenris. Take it from a man who speaks from experience... you will regret it if you don't at least try.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

Fenris paced his room, feeling like a caged animal. His bout with the training dummy had done little to calm him, and the news that the altus would be staying the night only added to his bad mood; in all the time he'd served her, Messere Hawke had never taken another to her bed, and this new development left a molten weight in Fenris' gut. It didn't matter that the altus was staying in a guest room across the hall, right now he could hear the man's voice in the next room. So he tortured himself with thoughts of what was surely about to happen, worrying that he'd be able to hear her in the throws of passion, wondering how beautiful she would sound, and how terrible that it would be that another man allowed to touch her. Fenris wondered if he could endure a lifetime of hearing and seeing her with someone else, but knew he'd rather rip out his own heart than leave her side completely. Messere Hawke had given him everything, and of his own free will, Fenris wanted to give his life to her protection. He just wished the beautiful magister hadn't captured his heart in the process of setting him free.

Snagging a bottle from his bedside table, Fenris took a swig of wine, then nearly launched it across the room, when the usually fruity red tasted like ash in his mouth. He wondered if a patrol of the villa would help calm him, wondered if he dared leave in case the altus was not as devoted to Messere Hawke as it seemed. After all, this was still Tevinter, and more than one magister had met their end at the hand of a lover. Fenris knew he wouldn't live with himself if his wounded heart cost such a good woman her life, so he sat on his bed, head in his hands, resigned to his fate. But then there was a quiet knock at the door the adjoined his room with Messere Hawke's. Surprised, Fenris rose to open it, not entirely expecting to see her waiting for him on the other side; though he wasn't sure what he'd expected, perhaps the altus wanting him to fetch something for the pair of them. However, it didn't really matter what he'd thought, not with her looking at him with tears still in her eyes.

“Can we talk?” Messere Hawke asked, quietly.

She seemed hesitant, almost nervous, and Fenris instantly worried she was about to dissolve his service. Though honestly, that seemed unlikely, since only hours before she'd refused to accept his resignation. He hoped that still counted for something, as he stepped aside to allow her into his room. Fenris wasn't sure why he'd done it, though nice, his room was not as grand as hers. He only had a bed on which to sit; the sofa and desk that had been in the room, had long since been removed in favour of his armour and weapons racks. Still, Messere Hawke didn't seem to mind, and even offered him a small smile as she perched on the edge of his bed. Fenris hesitated, wondering if it would be too bold to sit beside her, but knowing she wouldn't appreciate if he knelt at her feet. So slowly, he approached the bed, fully taking in her appearance... from her freshly scrubbed face, the simple cream tunic and black trews she wore, to the fact she was as bare footed as he was. The only bit of colour about her, other than her fiery hair, was the blood red sash she wore about her waist... she was stunning.

“I... I'm getting married,” she told him, carefully. “To Dorian. We're announcing our engagement tomorrow.”

“I... see,” he replied, feeling his heart shatter.

“No, I don't think you do,” Messere Hawke replied, quietly.

Something inside Fenris snapped then, and all the feelings he had for her bubbling to the surface, though twisted with the sharp pain he felt. In a moment of madness, he gripped her biceps tightly, as he loomed over her almost menacingly.

“It is you who doesn't see, Hawke,” he spat, angrily. “Coming here to tell a man that loves you, that you're marrying another. I did not think you so cruel _magister_ , but I guess I was wrong.”

* * *

The anger that she'd felt at being manhandled suddenly melted away at his words. For a heartbeat Hawke considered the elf standing over her; though narrowed, she could see the hurt in Fenris' olive eyes, and there'd been a hint of it in his rich voice too. Dorian had been right, the elf did love her... he'd even admitted it himself... and despite it being the furthest thing from what she wanted, Hawke had still managed to cause him pain.

“Fenris, I'm telling you because I love you too,” she told him, as calmly as she could.

Fenris scoffed. “And what? You've come to me tonight to take me as a lover? Entice me to your bed so that I can service you if your husband cannot perform? I am not a whore, Hawke. If you wanted a play thing, you should have kept me a slave.”

Her patience snapped then, and she shoved him away forcefully; the muscles she'd earned as a farmer then mercenary meaning she managed to make him stumble, allowing her to rise from the bed. She advanced on him, trying to keep a tight lease on her magic, since despite being furious, she didn't want to scared Fenris. She could punch him for being such an ass-hole with her, but could not stand the thought of making him cower like other magisters had done.

“I came because I didn't want you to get the wrong idea,” she grit out. “Against my better judgement, I care for you. I thought those feelings might be returned.”

“Then why are you marrying another man?” he challenged.

“To keep my daughter safe!” Hawke shouted, frustrated.

Fenris looked like she'd slapped him, as he back away until his back was flush with the door the separating their rooms. Hawke sighed, angrily. Annoyed at herself for loosing her temper, and aggravated at him for being so confrontational. She scrubbed a hand across her face, hoping the tears she could feel pricking her eyes wouldn't fall. This was not at all how she wanted this conversation to go, so she took a steadying breath, trying to calm herself.

“Dorian has kindly offered to claim her as his own,” she continued, more subdued. “No one will believe she's my niece, so we are going to say we met in the Free Marshes and he fathered her. The marriage is going to be to cement that story, and to protect him.”

“Why would the altus need protecting?” Fenris asked, cautiously.

Hawke hesitated a moment. It wasn't her secret to tell, but she knew they needed an ally in all this... hopefully Dorian would forgive her for divulging anything before consulting with him. But she felt is she kept any secrets now, she would lose the man she loved for good.

“He prefers the company of men, Fenris,” she told him, quietly. “His father found out and was preparing a blood ritual to 'correct him'. He was originally on his way here to tell me about it, when he heard our news.”

“So the marriage...”

“Is public only,” she confirmed, offering a small smile. “It was the only thing we could think of to solve both our problems.”

* * *

Fenris couldn't do much but stare at her for a moment, trying to process everything he'd just been told. Hesitantly, he took a step towards her, then another. He hated himself for putting her in this position, but realised she'd probably still be getting married to save her friend, even if he hadn't inadvertently put her adopted daughter at risk. However, Fenris couldn't get passed the other piece of information she'd given him... that she loved him. He scarcely dared believe it was true. How could a woman like Hawke care for someone like him. But despite hardly believing his luck, Fenris still cautiously reached for her; cupped her face in his bare hands when she didn't pull away.

“Did you truly mean what you said?” he asked, his voice raw with emotion.

“I love you, Fenris,” she replied, smiling at him sadly. “I've wanted to tell you for a while, but didn't want to make you uncomfortable... or risk you feeling obliged.”

Worrying she'd get the wrong idea if he admitted how long he'd had feelings for her, Fenris did the only thing he could think to do, and nervously leant in to press his lips cautiously against her much softer ones. He drew back immediately, terrified he'd overstepped, though quickly found Hawke's lips pressed against his once more. Fenris couldn't help the soft moan that escaped him, her kiss was like nothing he'd ever experienced before. Soft and gentle, even as she coaxed his lips open with her teasing tongue. He hadn't known it could be like this, so used to things being taken forcefully from him, and Fenris could feel tears pricking at his eyes at Hawke's care. His senses were flooded by her; the feeling of her soft cheek against his palm, the faint taste of mint as her tongue languidly danced with his, the floral scent of her as she pressed against him, and the small sigh she gave as he reluctantly pulled away; the need to breath too strong to ignore.

“I'm sorry I'll never be able to give you what you deserve,” she whispered, slowly opening her sapphire eyes to look at him.

Fenris shook his head, smiling slightly. Even without Hawke's need to marry the altus, he knew they'd have never been able to wed. Tevinter was not a kind place, Minrathious especially. It would have been political suicide for Hawke to so publicly take an elf as a lover, and not just any elf, a former slave with no magic. He loved her too much to let her take that risk. Besides, a secret relationship was far more than Fenris had ever dreamed he would have. So he dropped to his knees in front of her, before gathering her dainty hands in his.

“If there is a future to be had, I would gladly walk it by your side. Even if we must be discrete,” he assured her.

Hawke smiled at him then, seeming surprised that he wanted her regardless; as if he was the special one in their budding relationship. She looked so beautiful yet vulnerable, and an idea struck Fenris on how he might go about showing Hawke that he meant what he said. So carefully, he began to untie the red sash from around her waist. She seemed confused, but didn't move to stop him, just quietly watched as he wrapped the bright material around his right wrist. In the same silence, Fenris offered her his wrist, smiling slightly as Hawke understood and tied a knot... binding him to her.

“I am yours, Hawke. For as long as you'll have me,” he whispered, regarding her adoringly.

She smiled at him affectionately, before leaning in as if to kiss him again. Though before she did, Hawke murmured against his lips: “Forever than.” Fenris was the one who closed the slither distance between them, to seal the agreement.

 


	7. Chapter 7

Fenris heart pounded, but his breathing was steady and even as he knelt on the plush carpet at the foot of Hawkes bed, clad in only the navy silk sleeping trews he wore to bed. Since he and his lady had declared their feelings a month ago... time in which Hawke had married Dorian, and the altus had publicly claimed Amelia as his own... they had shared several intense kisses, but the moment when her hands began to wander, Hawke would always pull away. Fenris had endured two weeks of worrying that his lady didn't find him as appealing as she'd once claimed, but when he'd finally mustered enough courage to broach the subject with her, he was humbled when she explained she didn't want to get carried away and rush him into something he wasn't ready for. Fenris had been touched by the obvious care she had for him, but felt overwhelmed by being left in the daunting position of being the one who would have to initiate things, if he wanted their relationship to progress. However, after two further weeks of racking his brain for a way to go about it... and almost drumming up enough courage to ask Dorian for advice, though baulked at the last moment... Fenris had been left with the uncomfortable realisation that he literally had no clue how to approach intimacy as a freeman; just leaning in to give Hawke a kiss proved difficult half the time, for Maker's sake. However, despite how nerve-racking the prospect was, he _did_ want to cross that invisible line with Hawke. She meant everything to him, not to mention he'd touched himself almost ever night as he remembered their passionate kisses.

So after being driven to distraction for the past month and coming up with nothing, Fenris had done the only thing he could think to do, and fell back to what he knew. He bathed and oiled himself in the way he'd been instructed by that bastard Danarius, so that he was clean, with his skin and hair as soft as possible. But instead of going about the motions with dread settling in his gut, he'd gone about it with a nervous energy. He'd even asked Orana to trim his hair, so it now tickled the nape of his neck, where it had previously been brushing his collar bone. His fellow elf had given him an almost knowing smile, and for a brief moment Fenris debating asking her how she had crossed that threshold with Bodahn. However, despite the fact they were friends, they were not that close; and he knew if their roles were reversed, he'd think it too sacred a moment to share with another. So he'd simply blushed and mumbled a hesitant thanks, when Orana had promised to make sure no-one disturbed him or their lady that evening, before fleeing to the safety of his room. He'd paced for what felt like hours, debating how truly foolhardy his plan was. However, he couldn't ignore the glaring fact that he simply knew of no other way; though maybe he'd soon be able to ask Hawke to show him. But right then, he only had previous experience to draw upon, and although he shuddered to remember those times, the memories dictated that he changed from the simple cotton trews and shirt he wore of an evening, into something more enticing and easier to remove at a moment's notice. He settled for the silk sleeping trews his lady had gifted him, after he'd admitted his sleep was often disturbed with material rubbing against the constantly tender brands.

Once dressed, all that was left for him to do was retie his lady's sash around his wrist, before he slipped into Hawke's room to wait. For a moment, he'd honestly tried to sit on the edge of her bed. But it felt too foreign, too far removed from what he knew and it just served to make his growing nerves worse. So he slid to the floor, and shuffled until he was at the foot of her bed. But instead of the picture of complete subservience that he'd once been forced to adopt, Fenris rested his hands on his knees... hoping Hawke wouldn't notice how they trembled slightly... and fixed his gaze on the door. He didn't want to lower his head to show obedience, he didn't want to lower his eyes to hide any trace of fear and revulsion. Because although he only had bad experiences to draw upon, he wanted this. He wanted Hawke. He wanted to see that she wanted him too. He just hoped he didn't have to wait too long with only his growing nerves for company.

* * *

When Hawke had finally left the office she now shared with Dorian, and made it to her room, the last thing she'd been expecting to see was Fenris kneeling at the foot of her bed. In an instant, two conflicting emotions shot through her; first desire about being able to admire his toned physique unabashed, the second was dread at seeing him on his knees, reminiscent of his first night at the villa. But as she cautiously made her way to him, Hawke couldn't deny that although similar, the situation wasn't the same. Fenris wasn't cowering yet desperate to prove himself 'useful', his gorgeous olive eyes tracked her every movement, so she only hesitated a moment before she gently carded her fingers through his shocking white hair in the way she knew he liked, before whispering his name.

“Mea femina, you said I had to be the one to make the first move, but I do not know of another way to show you,” he stated, quietly. His ears tinged pink, though his gaze unwavering. “I am here at your service, cor meum. Allow me to show my devotion.”

Hawke swallowed thickly, her heart racing. The situation was far too similar to that first night, but Fenris was looking up at her with so much hope and anticipation, that she couldn't deny that this time it was different. Still, it broke her heart that the man she loved didn't know of any other way to ask for what he wanted, and she could appreciate the courage it must have taken him to come to her. So Hawke took a step closer to him, and gently cupped his handsome face in her hands, mindful not to brush against the sensitive brands on his neck that were often too painful to touch.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” she asked, quietly.

“I want you to show me how to do this,” he murmured, his eyes locked with hers.

The 'properly' was very loudly unsaid, and Hawke hoped Fenris didn't notice the tears she blinked away, before she leant down and captured his unresisting lips. As their tongues started a languid dance, she could taste a hint of peppermint, and smell the heady scents of ylang-ylang and sandalwood that clung to his skin. His fingers gently wrapped around her wrists, though he didn't pull her hands away from his face, and instead drew slow circles across her pulse with his thumbs. But his touch was hesitant and cautious, as if he wasn't sure he was allowed to touch; it betrayed how little experience he had with anything consensual. It made Hawke's heart race at the implication, and it would be a lie to say that she didn't feel more than a little nervous. Because although she'd had plenty of lovers over the years, none of them had suffered the abuse Fenris had. She was terrified of doing something wrong, but also desperately wanted to show him how sex should be, that mutual enjoyment was paramount... though right then, his experience was much more important than hers. So with that in mind, Hawke slowly broke their kiss and helped Fenris to his feet.

“Do you trust me?” she whispered, before slowly licking up the tapered curve of his ear.

“Yes.”

His voice was breathy and a little strained, even after so little attention, which suddenly gave her an idea. Which could go horribly wrong, but she wouldn't do anything without Fenris' express permission. Consent was sexy after all. So she was gentle as she pushed him to sit down on the bed, and kissed him sweetly as she unwound the sash from around his wrist, though paused to brush the back of her fingers affectionately across his cheek, before she held it up in front of his eyes and asked his permission. For a moment he looked terrified, and Hawke immediately moved to lower her arms. But to her surprise, Fenris lightly caught her elbows, stopping her movement and keeping the sash hovering in front of his eyes. He looked at the red material for a weighted moment, before he meant her gaze and nodded.

“I trust you, Hawke.”

She let out a breath she hadn't realised she was holding. “If anything is too much at any point, just tell me and I'll stop, okay? No safe words or games, you say 'stop' or 'no' and I'll listen.”

“Safe words?” he asked, clearly confused.

Hawke huffed out a laugh. “That's a whole new experience to explore at a later date, and I promise I'll explain it to you, but not tonight. For now, I just need you to remember that you're in charge here. Even with a blindfold on, you're calling the shots.”

“I... I'm not sure I'm comfortable... telling you want to do,” Fenris admitted, looking nervous.

“It's not quite like that,” she explained, smiling reassuringly. “All you need to do is lay back and try to relax. I'm going to try some things I think you'll like, and you just have to tell me if you don't. Okay? The blindfold is to help you concentrate how things feel and if you enjoy them, rather than your brain running ahead and worrying about any of it. Does that sound alright?”

His eyes searched her face, presumably looking for reassurance. Hawke supposed he found it, because he offered her a slightly shaky smile, before nodding. She returned his smile with a warm one of her own, and paused just long enough to ghost her lips over his, before she tied the sash across his eyes snugly but not too tight. Then she pushed the mountain of pillows off her bed, so there was no risk of something suddenly falling and startling Fenris, and once he was laying comfortably, Hawke slipped off the bed. She quickly undressed and unbound her hair, before pulling on a short, dark cherry red negligee that she kept in her bottom bedside draw. The cool silk felt decadent on her body, and she was sure it would feel nice for Fenris if she brushed against him. She took another moment to pour a glass of water from the decanter that always sat next to her bed, took a small sip... as she had plans for it later... before deftly climbing back beside Fenris. She knew listening to her preparations would have piqued his interest, and Hawke smirked as he blindly reached for her. She captured his hands, pressed a kiss to both sets of knuckles, before slowly pinning them above his head. She gave a gentle squeeze, a silent request he kept them there at least for now, and he gave a shuddering breath in reply.

Ever so slowly, Hawke began to trail just the tips of her fingers across his palms, along his wrists, and down his arms. Her touch was feather light, something that would be classed as teasing with anyone else, but with Fenris she knew everything had to be soft and gentle; and not just because of the pain the lyrium brands caused him, but also because of the atrocities he'd suffered. She desperately wanted him to enjoy himself, and since he'd all but admitted he'd never had a healthy sexual experience, Hawke wanted to give that to him. She didn't want Fenris worrying about how to please her, which is why she'd thought of the blindfold in the first place. So she skimmed her fingers down his arms, following the lines of lyrium etched into his olive skin; but only touching the flesh in between the brands. The shakiness of his breath told her that being on the receiving end of this kind of attention was completely new for him, and wherever she caressed, her lips followed softly. First his left arm, then his right, until she reached his shoulders. Impulsively, Hawke took a detour from his body, and peppered what remained uncovered of his handsome face with fleeting kisses that actually made his smile. She slowly licked up the column of his throat and along his jaw, which made Fenris hum quietly in approval as he tipped his head back, before she carefully nipped at his earlobe, making him gasp.

Hawke smiled against his skin as she kissed back down his neck, before her fingers rose to map is torso. She gently traced the swirling lines of lyrium, her hands trailing down his sternum before fanning out to explore his toned chest and defined abdomen. And where fingers went, lips and tongue followed. Hawke smirked when he gasped as she quickly swiped his nipples with brazen licks, and chuckled when he jumped as she lightly nipped at his hip bones, that had been revealed when she ever so slightly pushed down his silk trew. She hadn't moved them enough to reveal him, but just enough that when she slowly ran her tongue along the waistband, Fenris' breath was racing. Though when she repeated the action a third time, and her fingers dipped ever so slightly beneath the material, he gasped a broken: “Please”. And since Hawke had promised no games, she carefully removed his sole item of clothing, and couldn't help taking a moment to admire Fenris' naked form. He was stunning. Easily the most beautiful man she'd ever seen, and the impressive length of him had her fingers twitching to touch. But as gorgeous as Fenris was to look at, Hawke couldn't help frowning at the extend of the lyrium brands. His legs were just as covered as his arms and torso, and even the most intimate part of him hadn't escaped the markings. Yet a small part of her brain had to admit the swirling lines aesthetically added to Fenris' beauty, the vivid blue-white an enticing contrast to his olive skin. If they were simply tattoos Hawke wouldn't have hesitated to tell him all the thoughts whirling in her head, but because of how cruelly they hurt and tormented him, she decided to keep them to herself. However, she must have admired him for longer than she intended, because Fenris suddenly whispered:

“I know I am nothing to look at... I know how repuls...”

She cut him off with a kiss; feeling only a little guilty, because normally she'd have listened to his concerns and insecurities intently, before reassuring him. But when she heard the vulnerability in his rich voice, Hawke couldn't help acting on the impulse. She wanted to leave Fenris with no doubt how attractive she found him, so she kissed him breathless

“You're stunning,” she murmured against his lips, smirking at the fact his hands had remained above his head. “Easily the most beautiful man I've ever seen. You have no idea how much I _want_ you right now.”

“You can have anything you want of me,” he replied, earnestly.

In she hadn't already been in love with him, Hawke was certain she'd have fallen for Fenris just from that alone... the unwavering trust he had in her, it meant more to her than she would ever be able to explain. Though hopefully, she could show him how much he meant to her. So after pressing a lingering kiss to his eager lips, Hawke shimmied down until she knelt between his parted legs. Just like his arms, she ran her fingertips feather light, up and along the warm skin and followed the lyrium brands towards his groin. Her caresses crept close but never quite touched his length, before she sat back so she could kiss and lick first up his right leg, then his left. Fenris' whole body was trembling by the time her warm breath ghosted over him, but instead of giving him what she knew he would be desperately wanting, Hawke took the moment to sit up and lean over to get a drink of water. She made a show of swallowing twice, though she only let a small amount of liquid trickle down her throat the second time. She held the rest of the cool water in her mouth as she moved back into position, and she took a moment to simply admire Fenris, then gently caressed his balls as lightly as he could. The groan that escaped him was positively delicious, and Hawke didn't waste another second before she leant down. But the moment he was passed her lips and into the cool liquid inside her mouth, Fenris suddenly sat bolt upright. The movement made him pop out of her mouth, and she only had a moment to swallow the water, before one of his hands was tangling in her hair. Hawke glanced up and found he was pushing the blindfold off with the other, with his chest heaving and his olive eyes almost frantically searching hers. She was about to reach for him, about to ask if he was alright, before Fenris quickly pulled her forward and his lips collided with hers.

* * *

His heart was racing, and he groaned again when her tongue joined his in a passionate dance. The noises Hawke had pulled from him was the most vocal he'd ever been, but then again, no one had ever touched him like she had. And he'd been so very glad of the blindfold, because whilst it made him a little nervous, it had hid the tears that had pooled in his eyes as she touched him so lovingly. However, when her lips had closed around him and the always heated skin of his length had met the blessedly cool water she'd cunningly hidden in her mouth, Fenris just couldn't take any more. As much as he wanted to continue, he couldn't let Hawke go on until he had pleasured her. Because as much as he'd enjoyed every second of her attention, part of his brain just wouldn't stop reminding him it was _wrong_. He should be the one servicing... no, pleasuring... his lady. Hawke should be the one reclining as he worshipped her body, not the other way around. That wasn't to say that he wouldn't willingly submit to her again, whenever she wanted him, but he _had_ to prove he was a worthy of her touch. He _wanted_ to prove he was a good lover, almost desperately.

So he turned them slowly, before gently helping her to settle back on the bed. His hands shook as he caressed the outline of her figure, marvelling at the gorgeous silk Hawke had draped herself in... for him. Fenris had always thought he preferred his lady in gold, but after seeing her like this, he knew he'd always be partial to this shade of red. His hands continued to tremble as he caressed down the front of body, desperately wanting to touch her like she had him, but he'd never been trained how to do that. He didn't know how to caress her breasts or trace patterns into her soft skin until she shuddered in anticipation. And although he hoped one day that Hawke would teach him, for now Fenris would stick to what he knew; though where it had once repulsed him to perform this act, he was now eager and more than willing. So he smoothed his palms up her thighs, pushing the hem of her slip upwards as he did, until she was revealed to him. Obviously confident in her own appeal, Hawke let her legs fall open, giving Fenris a glorious view. He couldn't believe a woman as amazing as his lady would want him in this way, and there wasn't a chance he'd squander the opportunity. So he manoeuvred himself to lay between her legs... despite it being a little uncomfortable with his hard length, that had never factored into these encounters before... and draped her legs over his shoulders. He'd been taught to simply start, but he couldn't help leaning in to press a worshipful kiss to the apex of her thighs, before he slowly licked her opening, his tongue dipping just inside her heat. A soft sigh escaped her plush lips, as her hand reached down to him, and unable to help it, Fenris screwed his eyes shut, waiting for the pain when she grabbed his hair.

However, instead of the rough tug that experience had taught him to expect, Hawke's fingers merely ran through his white locks. He breathed a relieved sigh out through his nose as he continued to lick her, and his breath rushed over her, she squirmed. Unable to help it, Fenris chuckled; though he silently cursed himself and waited for the inevitable punishment. But his lady actually _moaned_ at the sound of a muffled laughter, and his gaze flicked up her body. He swallowed thickly at what he saw. Her generous breasts rose and fell with each panted breath, her eyes were closed and her head tilted back, whilst the hand that wasn't carding through his hair, was tightly gripping her own. Fenris couldn't believe that even now, she was thinking of his comfort. It made him moved without consciously thinking; letting her legs slip off his shoulders, as he propped himself up on one arm so he could just watch her. His free hand cupped her core, prompting Hawke to open her sapphire eyes and look at him.

“Can I...?” he asked, his voice barely a broken whispered.

“Anything.”

Her quiet reply almost undid him. He'd never had someone place such blind trust in him, no one had ever given him control like she was. Tears pricked his eyes, and he buried his face into her thigh so she wouldn't see, and pressed open mouth kisses to her skin. He slowly slid first one then two fingers into her, groaning softly at the sound of her heady moan. Fenris kept a steady pace as his fingers scissored ever so slightly as he gently thrust in and out of her, whilst he got to his knees in between her spread legs, so the thumb of his free hand could draw lazy circles around her most sensitive bundle of nerves. It was completely at odds with anything he'd ever done before, since he'd been trained to get those he was servicing off as quickly as possible, because they'd taught him how repulsive his touch was and that he was merely a convenient means to an end. But Hawke was different. The way her caresses lingered showed how different she was, she _liked_ touching him, _wanted_ to touch him and in return, Fenris wanted to touch her. He wanted to enjoy this, wanted to learn what she liked, and he was completely prepared to keep up the languid pace as long as Hawke allowed, until she looked at him with eyes darkened by desire. Her look alone made Fenris' heart race, never mind the way she arched and gasped whenever he curled his fingers inside her.

“Please, Fen. I want...”

He smiled at the nickname; he'd never had one before. But then swallowed thickly at the way Hawke's gaze dragged down his body, pointedly rested on his length, before slowly raising until she met his eyes again.

“I want to make love to you.”

Fenris couldn't help the tears that suddenly sprung to his eyes at her words and rolled down his cheeks, and he withdrew his hands from her, waiting for the ridicule. But he was just too overwhelmed by her words to hide his emotions. However, instead of hurling stinging remarks, Hawke sat up and simply wrapped her arms around him. The hold she surrounded him with was loose but comforting, and the press of her silk slip against his hot skin was wonderful. For a moment, Fenris buried his head in the crook of Hawke's neck, before he pulled her even closer; not caring how the press of her body against his made the brands burn, or how her mana made the lyrium in his skin itch. He wanted... needed... her close.

“I don't know how,” he whispered, choking back a sod.

“Can I show you?”

* * *

When Fenris nodded, Hawke's heart felt like it simultaneously jumped for joy and broke a little. If he'd said no she'd have completely understood, and she felt honoured that he was trusting her with this. So slowly, she coaxed him to lay beside her on the rumpled sheets, deliberated with herself for a moment, before carefully sliding her leg over his hip. It wasn't a position she was likely to climax in, but she had a feeling that her being on top would have too many bad memories associated with it, whilst he'd probably feel nervous if he was in the position of control. However, laying side by side made them appear equals... even if Fenris was still in charge as far as Hawke was concerned... and as his still hard length nudged against her core, she was certain he approved. So she rolled her hips, letting the tip of him slowly sink into her heat. Her eyes wanted to flutter closed as he gently thrust forward, but she forced her gaze to remain locked with his, until he was hilted inside her. Hawke moan at the wonderful feel of it, and leant her forehead against his; though tears pricked her eyes at the look of sheer devotion Fenris was regarding her with. So she whispered her love for him, before cradling his cheek with her hand and kissing him slow and sweet. She was perfectly content to continue the gentle pace they'd set together, but then his hand found her rear. Hawke wasn't entirely sure Fenris had intended to grab her there, but his fingers twitched, squeezing her flesh all the same, whilst his rhythm stuttered.

“More,” he murmured, his voice strained. “Please. More.”

With Fenris hilted inside her, Hawke rolled onto her back and pulled him on top of her; she wasn't about to risk triggering an unpleasant memory when he was so obviously close to release. She planted her feet firmly against the soft mattress, and rolled her hips in time to his quickening thrusts. He pushed up on his hands, his hips snapping forward at an angle that made her moan. It seemed to give Fenris confidence, because he suddenly draped her right leg over his forearm. The slight change in position had him going deeper, finally brushing that _exact_ spot inside her that made her toes curl. But she could feel the way Fenris' whole body was beginning to tremble, and when she opened eyes she hadn't realised she'd closed, Hawke understood that he was doing everything he could to hold off his release until she'd climaxed. But when she opened her mouth to tell him it was okay, that he could let go, he managed to drag another wanton moan from her lips. A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, which made Hawke grin, and when her smile actually brought Fenris' out in full, something unclenched in her chest at the sight. Because there was her proof that he was truly enjoying it, so she let herself finally let go. Her hand snaked between their bodies, and she rubbed furious circles around her most sensitive bundle of nerves, in time to the almost frantic rhythm they'd fallen into. It only took a few more of Fenris' thrusts before her climax hit, her whole body tense as her inner muscles pulsed around his length, which seemed to drag him over the edge with her. Hawke held him through the aftershocks, her fingers gently massaging the nape of his neck and base of his skull, until he finally raised his eye to look at her.

“Hello, lover,” she smiled.

Fenris huffed a laugh, before gently cupping her face. “Thank you.”

Hawke shook her head, still smiling. “Nothing to thank me for. I loved every second of it.”

“I love you,” he replied, his gaze obviously adoring. “Can we... can we do this again?”

“Whenever you want,” she assured, kissing the tip of his nose. “And I love you too.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Mea femina' is latin for 'my lady', whilst 'cor meum' is latin for 'my heart'.


End file.
